Carina's POV
The late afternoon breeze carried the soft rustle of the grass, blending with the hum of cicadas and the faint chatter of distant birds. I was finishing off my sandwich when the crunch of bike tires over dirt caught my attention.
I didn’t even need to look. I knew who it was.
“You again?” I sighed, glancing up from my spot on the picnic blanket to see Ric, the leader of the group of teasing boys, grinning down at me.
He parked his bike a few feet away, casually leaning it against a nearby tree. “Relax, Americana,” he said, his thick accent lacing the words with playful charm. “I’m not here to bully you.”
I rolled my eyes, stuffing the last bite of sandwich into my mouth. “I told you, I’m not American. I’m Filipino-American.”
“Still sounds like Americana to me,” he teased, plopping down on the grass beside me.
I narrowed my eyes at him, though I couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at my lips. His teasing felt more like an attempt at banter than anything malicious.
“Where are your minions?” I asked, glancing around.
Ric chuckled. “I don’t need them for this. I wanted to talk to you.”
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “About what?”
He pulled a blade of grass and twisted it between his fingers, his expression turning serious. “Engkantos,” he said quietly, almost like a warning.
I sighed, leaning back on my hands. “You’re obsessed with that stuff, huh?”
“Maybe,” he admitted, shrugging. “But my lola told me more stories. She said they don’t just stay in the forests or the fields—they follow people. Especially ones who stand out.”
The way he said it made my skin prickle. “What do you mean, ‘stand out’?”
He glanced at me, his brown eyes sharp and searching. “You’re different. You don’t belong here, not really. They can see that. Like a light in the dark.”
I stared at him, a nervous laugh escaping before I could stop it. “Are you trying to scare me?”
“No,” he said firmly, his voice low and steady. “I’m trying to warn you.”
I felt a lump forming in my throat, but I pushed it down, focusing on the calm surroundings. “Why would they care about me?”
“Because they’re always looking,” Ric said, leaning back on his elbows. “For servants, for victims… sometimes for brides.”
The word hung in the air, heavy and ominous.
I shook my head, trying to shrug it off. “I think your lola just likes to scare people.”
“She does,” Ric admitted with a small grin, “but not about this.”
We sat in silence for a moment, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the field. I fiddled with the corner of the picnic blanket, my thoughts spinning.
Ric broke the quiet, nodding toward my blanket. “Got any extra food?”
I blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. “Uh, yeah. Want some?”
He grinned. “Sure. I’ll take anything.”
I handed him a sandwich, and he unwrapped it quickly, taking a big bite. “Not bad,” he said through a mouthful of bread.
“Thanks, I guess.”
For a while, we ate in companionable silence. Ric talked about his lola, sharing more stories about engkantos and other creatures of Filipino folklore. Some sounded ridiculous, like tiny men who lived in anthills, while others sent chills down my spine, like shapeshifters who preyed on lone travelers.
I found myself drawn to his stories despite my skepticism. There was something about the way he spoke, his thick accent making the tales feel grounded in the world around us, like they weren’t just myths but warnings etched into the land itself.
The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until Ric stood, brushing grass off his jeans.
“It’s getting dark,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious. “You should head home.”
I nodded, packing up the remains of my picnic.
As I folded the blanket, Ric spoke again. “Be careful, Carina. My lola says the fields are always watching.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I forced a laugh, trying to shake off the unease. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Ric climbed onto his bike, giving me a small wave before pedaling off into the twilight.
I glanced back at my house, my eyes drawn to my room.
Even from here, I could feel it—the dark presence waiting for me, lurking in the corner where it always stayed.
I swallowed hard, gathering my things and heading home. Whatever Ric’s lola had said about engkantos, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that her stories weren’t just legends.
I closed the front door quietly behind me, the fading sounds of the evening wrapping around the house like a lullaby. The day had been long—longer than I’d realized—and Ric’s words about engkantos lingered in my mind like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
The house was quiet, my parents already settled in the living room. I offered them a quick smile as I headed upstairs, clutching the folded picnic blanket against my chest.
As soon as I opened my bedroom door, a sudden rush of cold air brushed past me, making my skin prickle.
Before I could take another step inside, it was there.
The shadow moved so fast it seemed to materialize in front of me. Its towering form loomed over me, the dim light from the hallway casting faint highlights along its edges. My heart leapt into my throat as it leaned in, its presence overwhelming.
Then it sniffed me.
The sound was soft, almost animalistic, and it sent a shiver through my entire body. I stood frozen, staring at the vague shape of its face—or what I thought was its face.
Its voice came next, low and gravelly, the words slipping from its mouth like a foreign melody. It spoke in its strange, lilting dialect again.
I frowned, my confusion snapping me out of my frozen state. “I… I don’t understand you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
The shadow didn’t reply. It tilted its head slightly, as if studying me, then retreated just as quickly as it had appeared. It slinked back into the darkened corner of my room, folding itself into the shadows like smoke.
I stood there, staring at the empty space where it had been. My pulse thundered in my ears as I struggled to process what had just happened.
“What… was that about?” I muttered to myself.
The air in the room felt heavier, thicker, as if the shadow had left something behind. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog in my mind. Deciding I needed to calm down, I grabbed my towel and headed for the bathroom.
The shower didn’t help as much as I’d hoped. Warm water cascaded over my skin, but my thoughts were a mess.
The shadow had never been this… erratic before. Sure, it was always around, always watching, but now? It was different. The way it sniffed me, the way it spoke—it was like it had noticed something about me that even I didn’t know.
I dried off, slipping into my favorite oversized shirt before climbing into bed. The room was dark, but I didn’t bother turning on the light. I’d grown used to the darkness. Used to it.
Lying down, I closed my eyes, letting out a long sigh. The day had worn me out, and sleep came quicker than I expected.
When I woke, it was still dark. The house was quiet, but something felt… off.
My back felt cold.
So cold.
I shifted slightly, only to freeze when I felt it—something pressed against me, solid and unmoving.
My breath hitched.
The shadow.
It was behind me, its form pressed against my back, its presence inescapable.
I felt it again—the soft, deliberate sniffing near my neck. The sound sent a strange mix of chills and heat through my body.
Then it tightened its embrace.
The coldness of its "arms" enveloped me, but it wasn’t the lifeless chill of the air; it was something deeper, something alive.
Slowly, tentatively, I raised my hand and touched its arm.
I expected the usual cool, smooth texture of its shadowy form. Instead, my fingers brushed over something different—something that felt… human.
My heart stopped.
I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse.
Its arm.
Amidst the inky blackness, there were small patches of pale white skin. Skin that looked like mine.
My breath quickened as I shifted, twisting to get a better look.
And then I saw it.
Its face.
Half of it was still shrouded in darkness, but the other half…
There were more patches of white skin, smooth and almost glowing against the black void of its form. Its eyelashes—long and delicate—were pure white, framing closed eyes that made it look almost… peaceful.
I gasped softly, unable to tear my gaze away.
As if hearing me, its eyes opened.
I was unprepared for what I saw.
The eyes weren’t black like the rest of its body, nor were they entirely human. They were a pale, milky grey, with a faint shimmer that reminded me of moonlight reflected on water.
They were mesmerizing. Otherworldly.
For a moment, we just stared at each other. I didn’t speak, and neither did it.
The tension in the air was almost suffocating, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away. There was something in its gaze—something ancient and knowing, but also… curious.
My hand was still on its arm, and I felt its coldness seep into me, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was grounding, tethering me to the moment.
The shadow shifted slightly, leaning closer, its grey eyes locked onto mine.
“What… are you?” I finally whispered, my voice trembling.
It didn’t answer.
Instead, it raised a hand—a hand that was more defined than ever, with long fingers tipped in faintly sharp nails—and gently brushed a strand of hair from my face.
The touch was impossibly cold, but it sent warmth coursing through me nonetheless.
And then, as silently as it had appeared, the shadow retreated.
It melted back into the corner of the room, its glowing eyes the last thing to vanish into the dark.
I lay there, staring at the empty space it had left behind, my heart racing.
Sleep didn’t come again that night.
*****